


Your Sweatshirt=My Sweatshirt

by WhumpTown



Category: New Amsterdam (TV 2018)
Genre: Cancer, F/M, Helen Sharpe loves Max, Max loves Helen, The two of them are a mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 07:46:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20524463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhumpTown/pseuds/WhumpTown
Summary: Helen freaks out then admits to having stolen Max's sweatshirt





	Your Sweatshirt=My Sweatshirt

**Author's Note:**

> Haven't been active in like a month  
I forgot how to write

Dora greets Helen in the hall. Her expression somber, her eyes cast to the floor, but loyal as she stands outside Max’s room. 

Iggy, Vijay, and Reynolds had all admitted Max under their care to keep him at the hospital. Iggy claimed he wasn’t mentally stable after the death of his wife. He posed a threat to himself to be left alone and not under the care of trained professionals. Vijay claimed Max suffered a concussion and that it was at least a grade three and he’d need constant monitoring, despite it being nothing more than a little cut on his temple. Reynolds just added Max’s chart in the mix of his own and if anyone asked he told them there was a muffled sound on the right ventricle that he wanted to be monitored. 

The three of them bought Max a month. 

Iggy’s plan gets busted three days in. Vijay makes it the rest of the week and two more after that. Right now, they rest uneasily hoping that Reynolds' nonchalant authority buys them more time. 

Helen stops in the hall, sudden waves of anxiety rush over her, and she’s draped in a freezing blanket. “Dora-” her brisk pace falters and she takes the remaining steps adamantly. “Is he- How is he?”

The hospital is running under her authority. His job is her but Dora still comes back here, to him, to make sure he knows everything. Partially, he does need to be kept in the loop. When he’s better he needs to know everything that's happened over the last few months. Mostly, Dora uses the hospital as an excuse to see him. Helen keeps them updated, she’ll tell them today was a good day or today he puked on his shoes but then he laughed until he had himself gagging. 

She never tells them how sometimes he’s too weak to lift his head from the pillow on the bed. That they took turns sitting with him, watching breathe through an oxygen mask because his oxygen bottomed out to the point that they almost have to incubate. Or that on other days he lays comatose, no puking, no talking, he just watches whoever comes in. 

Dora sees it all. She’s their cheerleader. She forces Max to push himself and sometimes she just holds his hand. Dora’s their rock and to find her crying, not just crying but sobbing in the hall is terrifying. Through all of this, Dora hasn’t broken once.

“He-He’s-”

Helen keeps going, fear and instincts mixing and she rushes into the room. She expects to find Max dead, comatose or incubated. Instead, he’s standing on his own two feet, granted leaning heavily against the bed rail, and watching her with vibrant blue eyes. Focused blue eyes that have been shut behind half-lidded eyes for so long that they’re nearly piercing as they smile at her.

“Max,” his name is like a sigh off her lips. She doesn’t think about it, she closes the space between them. Her arms find their way around his body, She sighs in relief at his scent, he smells like him for the first time in months. He’s washed the hospital from his skin, his hair still damp from his shower. “God, I was so worried. I thought-” she can’t bring herself to finish the thought. 

Max chuckles, it’s a broken sound. His throat is sore but he’s breathing on his own without aid. “Scared Dora when she came in,” his self-satisfied laugh amuses her. “I was standing at the door and she didn’t see me until she opened it. I’m not sure if she’s crying because I scared her that bad- speaking of, do I really look that bad?”

She’s glad her_ Max is back. Energetic, thirty questions at once, and piggy-backing sentences on top of each other. She smiles and removes herself from his side. “You look-” she looks him up and down. He looks like shit and for a moment she considers lying to him. Then she smiles even bigger,” you look like absolute shit but the shower has helped.”_

_He smiles but it falters,” uh…” His face pinches in a way that she knows means he’s uncomfortable. He looks around the room,” I was looking for a jacket or something. I’m freezing. Do you- do you know where a blanket or something is?”_

_Just like that everything is thrown out the window, his illness is still present. He’s still sick and he’s going to be for a long time. She tries not to make her sadness apparent but it washes over her eyes in a wave and he doesn’t misplace it. She smiles softer this time, sympathy and love dripping from her tone. “You’ve got a sweatshirt packed away in your suitcase.” She moves around him, knowing exactly where the sweatshirt is. _

_A week ago when she had to raid his apartment for his clothes she had found it. She hadn’t been thinking of him. His room stayed chilly despite them constantly lowering the temperature and she’d put it in the bag for herself. She had worn it, a lot. She almost hopes he won’t notice._

_“I hate to ask…” his chest is tight from the radiation. He’d started having problems with coordination before he completely lost the ability to raise his arms above his head. Physical therapy has been neglected until he’s in remission and he feels stupid but he can’t help this. So when he sees her smile, he breathes a sigh of relief._

_It’s a bit of a fight, his lanky body is a lot taller than hers and he ends up sitting on the bed while she fights him into it. She pulls it over his head, using a little bit more force than necessary but when his ears pop out he laughs. He manages the rest by himself, tugging it around his body until he’s comfortable. “We’re going to have to cut this thing off me later.”_

_It’s a joke, his tone is light and his smile mischievous. She doesn’t even think before arguing,” no that’s my favorite hoodie.”_

_Max’s eyebrows meet in the middle of his forehead, drawn tight by confusion. “Forgive me, I suffer extensively from chemo brain but did you just-”_

_She blushes, hard,” yeah. Yeah, I did. Can we just-”_

_“Forget it? Hell no. You wore my sweatshirt?” Max stifles a deep chuckle with the back of his hand. He ends up doubling over himself and coughing weakly and wetly into the crook of his arm. Naturally, it doesn’t stop him from making fun of her. “I thought you were better than this, honestly, Helen. Stealing clothes from a sick man? A dying man. That’s just low.”_

_She rolls her eyes and moves away from him. She tries not to think about her cheeks heating up as she moves away. Neither of them had noticed how she had stepped in between his legs. Now he’s teasing her and God, it feels like junior high all over again._

_He watches her untangle his IV, moving medicine bags around until he can move more freely. “We won’t cut it off,” he says decisively,” I can’t ruin your favorite sweatshirt.”_

_She’s glad her face isn’t visible and she softly thanks him, her cheeks heating up once again._

_Iggy breaks their awkward silence, Max’s bundle of joy kicking up a storm in the psychologist's arms. Iggy mumbles something to her and then responds in the same beat,” you had better calm down little missy. Your dad is going to be mad with me if he thinks I’ve got you bouncing about-” Then he looks up at them, at Max, at the baby. “Oh. Well..”_

_He comes the rest of the way in, sheepishly smiling as he steps around the bed to place Luna in her father’s arms. The hospital is a daycare. It’s dangerous for a baby to be in the hospital, getting passed between Dora, Bloom, Vija, Iggy, Reynolds, nurses, and nearly anyone else because she’s adorable and Max is great. Sometimes Helen fears Luna won’t develop secure attachments. Then she’ll watch her right now, for example, as Iggy hands Luna to Max. She’s secured her attachments alright, grinning all goofy up at her father and he’s got the same damn smile as he looks at her._

_Helen can’t help but grin at the two of them. It’s going to be hell until Max goes into remission, a nearly impossible fight, but it’s going to be worth it and if anyone can do it it’s Max._

**Author's Note:**

> BUT ALSO I AM SO EXCITED FOR THIS NEXT SEASON AND I HAVE LITERALLY PUT MONEY ON THE FACT THAT GEORGIA IS GONNA DIE (I'm gonna be big sad if she does but like still)


End file.
